


and she draws herself with wolves

by anamatics



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Amnesia, F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-03
Updated: 2013-02-03
Packaged: 2017-11-28 00:21:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/668153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anamatics/pseuds/anamatics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She doesn't remember who she is at all, but when they give her pen and paper, she draws herself with wolves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and she draws herself with wolves

She is told that her name is Belle French, that she’s in her twenties, and that she’s a librarian.  It all sounds very lovely and she wants nothing more than to go back a quiet place full of books.  They’re keeping her at the hospital for the time being and she’s really not sure _why_  they’re doing that exactly.  Their reasoning seems flawed and unfounded.

She was nearly hit by a car, she supposes.

 

“I’m Victor Whale,” the doctor explains pleasantly, pulling her cart off the end of her bed and contemplating it with the look of a man three times his age.  Belle, as she supposes she must call herself as it is apparently her name, nods as politely as she can, and sits up so that he can see her better.  “I’m the attending physician who was on duty when you were brought in.  Ms. French, can you tell me what you remember?”

She doesn’t recall much at all.

It’s easy to plaster on a smile and shake her head serenely.  She doesn’t feel comfortable with this man, telling him about the man with the limp who tried to kiss her and shoved a chipped cup into her hands like it was somehow the answer to all their problems. 

The doctor is young-looking, and he speaks with an accent that she cannot place.  She cannot place her own accent either.

“I’m sorry doctor,” she says simply.  “I can’t recall anything at all.”

He lowers the chart and sighs, running a hand through his hair.  He gestures towards the bed with long fingers that certainly look like the kind that she would expect a doctor to have.  They’re strong-looking and steady.  Surgeons are supposed to have steady hands.  “Can I sit, Ms. French?” he asks.

For the life of her, she doesn’t know what to say.  She nods mutely and moves her leg over.

“You have some sort of amnesia,” Doctor Whale explains.  He sets her chart across his knees and his shoulders seem to droop and he looks completely and utterly defeated.  It is almost as though he’s afraid that she’d never remember.  She’s got to admit, she’s starting to feel the same way.  “And I don’t know if your memories will ever return.”

“Oh…” she says, and her hand comes to rest on her lips.  The pads of her fingers feel rough, and the moisture that’s gathered as her tongue presses against them for even the slightest of moments fills her with the strangest of sensations. 

She doesn’t know who she is.

-

At the doctor’s request, she’s spent a great deal of time trying to remember who exactly she is.  In her mind’s eye, all she can see is a room not dissimilar to this one - only with bars on the window and stacks of books around her.  It doesn’t seem right and she certainly doesn’t feel like she’s a criminal. 

They give her pens and paper, but no books. 

When she asks the nurse why, all she gets is a tight-lipped smile and a shrug.  It’s apparently her call, and it’s easy to read in between the lines. 

So she draws from the snippets of memories that she does have.  She draws the cup that the man with the limp pressed into her hands more times than she cares to count.  She draws the room with the bars on the window and a pair of haunting eyes staring at her from the doorway. 

She shows the pictures to Doctor Whale and he stares at them for a long moment before asking her if the cup has any significance to her.  She shakes her head, because no, it doesn’t.  It’s just seared in her memory like the man with the limp’s kiss.  She can’t shake it - can’t get away from the eyes in her memory. 

“Doctor,” she asks.

“Yes?” he replies with eyebrows raised.

“Who am I?”

He has no answer for her, and she wants to scream.

(and she draws herself surrounded by protective and caring wolves that she doesn’t show to anyone.)

-

She asks if she has any friends with the sheriff, Emma Swan, comes in and takes her statement. Any family.

“Um…” the sheriff says, and it goes to reason that maybe she’s not close with the sheriff and therefore the sheriff doesn’t know who she’s friends with.  She watches as this nervous blonde woman with a gun and sheriff’s badge fidgets with her coat for a moment before giving into what was sure to be a challenging mental conflict.  “I can get Ruby in here…”

“Ruby?” she asks.  The name sounds nice, maybe even the sort of feeling that she gets the impression that she should have around the sheriff.

Mostly she just feels uncomfortable, though.  Like she’s somehow done something wrong in having amnesia in the first place.

She shifts towards the sheriff and reaches out to grab her arm.  She can’t help but notice how the sheriff flinches away from her touch, from all human contact.  “Who is Ruby?” she asks again.

The sheriff tucks a lock of hair behind her ear and finally smiles at her.  It’s awkward and maybe just a little bit forced, but it’s more than anyone’s done for her yet.  “She’s a friend of yours — of mine. You guys were really close.”

Maybe she is expecting it to be harder to swallow, but the idea that she has friends at all fills her with such joy that she’s practically bouncing in the bed just thinking about it.  “Could I see her?” she asks.

The sheriff sucks on her teeth for a moment, but gathers her notebook and tucks it into her pocket. 

“I’ll see what I can do.”

-

Ruby comes in like the western wind, all smiles and far too tight pants.  She blushes even now, thinking about them.  

“It’s good to see you again,” Ruby said as she settled down into the chair across from the bed and crossed her legs.  One over the other, careful precision.  It was all so choreographed and she felt awkward just looking at it.

“I must beg your forgiveness as I don’t remember you at all,” she replies.

It’s strange to watch Ruby’s face fall, and feel far worse about it than she probably should.  “You’re just like her, you know?”

“Mnn?” she hums in response.

“Belle.  You’re just like her,” Ruby says and scowls at her fingernail. She contemplates it for a moment longer before biting it. 

“They keep telling me I am her,” Belle points out.

And they smile at each other.

-

They let her go back to the library after another day or so.  Ruby and Doctor Whale drive her home and she sits on the edge of her bed and watches as Ruby putters around the small apartment at the back of the library. 

“You’ve been here before,” she says, not in the least bit accusatory.

Ruby pulls down a box of cereal from a high shelf and leaves it on the counter.  “You could say that,” she replies with a grin.  “We spend a lot of time in this kitchen.”

“What do we do in here,” she asks - because it seems the prudent thing to do.  She can’t really recall how to cook and Ruby’s puttering around like she belongs in a kitchen.  Maybe they’re just really good friends who help each other out, it can’t be anything more than that.

And then Ruby hands her a bowl full of cereal and sets the half-gallon of milk right in front of her.  There is a look in Ruby’s eyes at that moment that makes her heart break, and she wants to pull Ruby in close and hug her tightly.  Because she has never seen someone look quite so sad.

She can’t do that though, because she doesn’t know who she is.  She’s just a person and Ruby’s just a girl who has shoved a bowl of cereal into her hands.  Nothing more.

“Thank you,” she says.

Ruby looks sheepishly down at the floor.  “My Granny says I feed people when I worry about them.”

She reaches forward and grabs Ruby’s hand, “Don’t feel bad - I don’t really remember how to cook.”

Ruby laughs then.  “That’s because you’re not very good at it.”

And she wants to kiss Ruby in that one stolen moment that they share then.

-

The Sheriff comes back with her notebook and cocky attitude that makes her think that Emma Swan thinks the world of herself and takes her job far too seriously.  She hit her head, she isn’t a criminal.  “Ms. French,” she says, “have you remembered anything yet?”

“No ma’am,” she replies. 

“That’s a shame,” Emma Swan agrees. She holds out a card.  “Please call me if you do.”

She wants to know why it matters if she remembers anything.  She wants to know why it matters at all. 

She wants to remember most of all. 

-

Ruby starts a tradition of coming to visit after her shifts at her grandmother’s diner.  She brings something to cook, and teaches her how to cook it.  It’s nice and platonic, and it almost makes the pain of whatever it is that she holds in her heart for Ruby go away.  It is in those briefest moments that she feels the most whole. 

They’re sitting at the pier, looking out over the cove and the stars overhead.  Ruby is naming the constellations, one after another, her gaze lingering on the moon.  There’s a look of almost-longing that comes over Ruby’s face then that makes her want to reach out and touch her.  To make sure that Ruby is, indeed, real.   

“Before…” she begins, and Ruby turns to look at her. 

“Mmn?”

“Were we together?” she asks.

Ruby doesn’t answer and she persists.  She grabs Ruby’s shoulder and pulls her forward and into an awkward sideways hug.  “I feel safest when I’m with you,” she confesses. 

“You can’t,” Ruby retorts.  The response is curt and she wonders why.  “Belle,” Ruby insists, “You can’t.”

“But I do!” she protests. 

Ruby gets up and walks away, leaving her alone in the dark.  She turns her head to the sky and wants to scream.  She watches as the stars fall down one by one and wonders if she wishes hard enough if her wish will come true.

-

It does not come true.  They go back to being themselves - to lingering in doorways and being far too close for each other’s comfort.  The sheriff watches them, hell, everyone in the town watches them.  They must be mildly interesting as it’s sort of irritating to her and she really can’t help herself when it comes to flirting with Ruby.

And she doesn’t bother to stop.  She lets the crush fester for more than a month as the moon wanes and grows full once more.

Ruby has grown increasingly agitated and grouchy as the moon has gotten bigger, and they’ve watched enough movies together that she feels it’s only appropriate to make a joke late one Tuesday night that Ruby’s a werewolf.

Ruby doesn’t take it very well, but smiles weakly at her later when they fall asleep curled around each other.

And somehow, that is enough.

-

She remembers on a Wednesday. 

She remembers on a Wednesday because Ruby kisses her and tells her to be safe before barricading the door and refusing to let her out of the library as a full moon hangs low in the sky.

And Belle? 

Belle hates herself for forgetting in the first place. 

(and she draws herself with wolves all the same.)


End file.
